The Crimson Prince
by NeonZangetsu
Summary: A rainy day in the month of May. A girl, standing before the river, ready to leap into oblivion. A boy, and his mother, and how a simple conversation would change their lives forever. IchigoxBenihime, with bits of IchigoxYoruichi in later chapters
1. Prologue: Awaken

**_DAMNIT! Someone HAD to suggest this to me, and before I knew it, BAM! here it was. I'm going to try and start each chappy with a poem, but well, uh, not all of those are mine, they're just supposed to symbolize the emotions in each chapter. Not really the best poet._**

My mother groaned, my father wept:  
Into the dangerous world I leapt,  
Helpless, naked, piping loud,  
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.

Struggling in my father's hands,  
Striving against my swaddling bands,  
Bound and weary, I thought best  
To sulk upon my mother's chest.

**CrImSoN**

Kurosaki Ichigo cried.

"Mom...Mommy! Don't die! Please don't die!"

**"I can save her." **

"What!"

**"I will not repeat myself."** The voice inside his head sighed, unravelling as the blood soaked into his windbreaker. **"Now, come to me."**

Ichigo blinked in dismay and surprise as the rainy surroundings of the riverbank disappeared only to be replaced with another, less than appealing landscape. He tried to scream, but the words, and his voice had already deserted him. Ichigo gasped and covered his face with both hands as a dark shadow swept overhead. This was a dream, it was all just a dream! He was going to wake up soon, he was going to wake up to his nice, warm bed, and, and and...

However, this was not the warm, watery world of he'd often seem in his dreams, in fact, this place was the exact opposite of the vibrant and lively world, as was its owner. This place stank of death and decay, of dried blood and perfume, as opposed to the minty, syrupy sweet smell that always emanated from that place, that a aquatic realm. Indeed, if this horrid place could even be described as a _home_, then only a monster straight out of a horror film could ever call it such.

He stood in an open plain, but that was where the resemblance began and ended. There were no clouds, no mountains in this bloody red sky, from which a full moon, black and ominous shone down. There _was_ a tree, but it was a hideous, deformed oak, from which a thousand crows were perched, giving it the appearance of actually retaining leaves. The fowl stared at him with their blood red eyes, as if daring him to come closer, daring her to approach one of the many corpses that lay scattered about this blood red field. It cawed at him, laughing when he backed away.

"W-What is this place...?"

Scattered about the ashen field were thick splotches of blood, darker than the red sky, nearly opaque in their coloration. Somehoe, Ichigo knew, he just knew they weren't just stains, they reaked of blood A warm breeze, thick with the scent of malice, blew across the field, and Ichigo shivered quietly, not even bothering to turn around as the sound of footsteps crunched across the dead skulls of warriors, long since deceased.

"I wanna go home!"

**"Welcome, boy."**

_"W-Who's there!" _He tried, then failed to hide the fear in his voice, and was unable to conceal the way he quailed at the thought of turning to face the apparition that was drawing steadily closer toward him. "Th-This a dream, right? None of this is real, right? This isn't happening to me, is it?"

**"Boy."** The sound of footsteps paused, slowed, stopped. **"Everything you see before you is very, very real." **A hand, sun kissed in its tan, clasped his shoulder briefly, then roughly shoved him forward, causing the boy to stumble a few paces before regaining his balance. He tripped over something flat, and fell face first into the mire. Immediately, he began to sob, which only earned an exasperated retort from the woman.

**"Honestly, to think that you're my wielder."**

Ichigo sniffled and rubbed at the grime covering his eyes.

"Where's my mom...I wanna go home...

**"Cease your bawling and stand, boy!"**

A hard object crashed into his skull, bouncing off his soppy mane of orange hair. Whining, Ichigo rubbed at his scalp, then bent down to pick up the object that had injured him so. The child quailed once he recognized the oblong object in his hand. He'd seen daddy with something like this before, but the memory was faint and fuzzy, escaping him when he reached for it. However, he'd watched more than enough cartoons to recognize the sheathe for what it was, and what was contained within it.

"Nani? A sword? What am I 'sposed to do with this?"

**_"Draw _your sword, boy." **The softness was gone, replaced by the steely bite of a stern woman as she stepped into the light. Ichigo whimpered, realizing that this was, not the kind, loving voice that Ichigo had known for all of his life, nor was this his mother, though she could easily have been mistaken as such at first glance, if not for the aforementioned characteristics. **"Your true test begins here and now. And I suggest you hurry. If you don't, your mother will most certainly...die."**

_"What?"_ Disbelief flickered across the boy's delicate features "What did you just say?"Now, Kurosaki Ichigo did turn, and for the second time within a day, beheld the grim visage he'd seen in his nightmare's. Fierce crimson eyes glittered out of an even fiercer visage, long tresses of ruby red hair framed her face, and the necklace of black pearl beads she wore. The red, ragged kimono, completed the appearance of a woman born solely for the sake of battle, and nothing else. She wielded a strange, rectangular katana, one that dripped red with blood. She smiled, coldly, approaching.

**"Prepare yourself, my master-to-be."**

_"MOMMY! HEEEEELP!"_

The crows shrieked and scattered into the skies as the sound of steel striking steel filled the graveyard. The woman gaped, her eyes widening, narrowing, at the thin slice in her neck, not even a centimeter deep. Touching a delicate finger to the wound, it came away with a droplet of red.

Ichigo lay there, weakly gripping the hilt of the sword.

_**"Boy...**_

Ichigo _squealed _and scampered backward on his hands and knees.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! _Please_ don't kill me!"

**"Coward."** She chided sternly. **"I have no intention of harming you."**

"You tried to chop my head off!"

**"When you say try, that means I _attempted _to remove your head from your shoulders." **She startled him now, by sheathing her blade and performing an about face, bringing her glaring visage a mere centimeter from his own.** "As you can see, boy, I have done no such thing. Had I been willing to use my full strength from the beginning, you would have perished. Now, cease your bawling and stand."**

"Gah," And here little Ichigo furiously scratched at his head. "I don't understand any of this!" His protests were abruptly silence as the woman placed both hands upon his shoulders and lowered herself to his level. Ichigo blinked, flinching away from her stern visage.

"Y-You're weird. Who are you?"

**"Your princess."**

"Eh?"

**"In due time, boy. **The red princess smiled and drew herself up."**All in due time. Now, you must leave my world. ****Your mother will yet live, but the time has not yet come for you to learn my name. Your father is trying to rouse you, and I have kept you long enough."**

"But I-

A soft pair of lips pressed against Ichigo's cheek, silencing him.

_**"Farewell for now, my prince."**_

With a violent scream from his lungs, Kurosaki Ichigo came gasping back to the world of the living. A pair of strong arms embraced him, hauling him into a chest that reeked of cigarrete smoke and oranges. The room was a blur of white, and it took the lad quite some time to realize that he was no longer at the riverbank, but in a hospital bed, his father, Isshin Kurosaki, speaking to his only son now as he pulled away.

...alright, Ichigo?"

"Whuzzat?"

Ichigo blinked, blearily rubbing at his eyes. He tried to sit up, but a weight was keeping his legs pinned in place. Confused, Ichigo glanced down for the source of the burden, and upon noticing it, shouted loudly in exclamation. It was the same sword from before! And it was in his lap!

"W-When did this get here?"

Isshin seemed to notice the crooked handle of the blade as well. He gazed at it for a moment, irises shrinking as his eyes widened in surprise.

"Ichigo," And here Isshin's tone darkened. "Son, where did you find that sword?"

"Um...I dunno." Ichigo instinctively curled a hand about the blade's darkened sheathe. "A lady in red clothes gave it to me. I was in this really wierd place and she kept trying to-

"Did she mention her name?" Isshin asked abruptly.

"Nu-uh...Confused, Ichigo shook his head." She said I couldn't learn it yet. She also said something about Mommmy being okay if I managed to convince her 'bout something. She also called me her prince? Dad, what's going on here, where's Mommmy? I remember the river, and-and-and...

Isshin paled, the words of his son falling upon deaf ears. Ichigo had just accurately described the zanpakutou of his oldest rival and closest friend, Urahara Kisuke. The last time he had checked, that crazy bastard had just become the captain of the twelfth division. So what was Kisuke's zanpakutou doing in the hands of Isshin's son? Was that the reason Masaki's wounds had simply closed themselves up, before his very eyes?

The reason why such a powerful hollow had fled from such an easy meal?

A cold knot of dread began to form in Isshin's stomach. Either Urahara was dead, or Ichigo had somehow, miracously, obtained the very same zanpakutou as one of Soul Society's most infamous captain's. And if the latter were the case, and the Gotei Thirteen was made aware of it...

"Oh, kami."

"Dad?"

"Oh, It's nothing, my son! Nothing at all!" Isshin laughed boisterously, struggling to maintain a cheerful facade in the face of his inquisitive offspring. Leaping from the bed to the door, Isshin flung it open with excess enthusiasm, nearly disloding the plaster from its hinges in the process of doing so. Ichigo stared after him in disbelief, only to squeal in delight as Isshin swept back around and scooped him up in one arm.

"What say we get you out of this bed and go pay Momma a visit, neh, Ichigo!"

_**A/N: Next time: Friends.**_

_** Um...if anyone knows any good poetry, I'd appreciate the help.**_


	2. Hemorhage

**A/N: Wow. I had no idea this story would be so well...accepted. I'm glad that all of you are enjoying my work, and believe me, I aim to take each chapter to a new level and then some! Benihime's abilities are relatively unexplored, so that leaves me plenty of plot/wiggle room...**

**Read, Review and enjoy the chappy!**

**Love and hurt, tis the same,  
Dance and play, like it's a game.  
Laugh and cry, through those unnamed,  
The beast within, it is untamed.**

**Calling, waiting for the one,  
Running 'round and having fun.  
All are dancing in the sun,  
Waiting for the rest to come.**

**Hemorhage**

_(One month later)_

"Ittei!" Someone yelped loudly, her cry of pain snapping Ichigo out of his trance. Startled, Ichigo glanced down, then realized he was glancing _down _for a change, instead of _up_. Nursing a small welt on her cheek, a young Tatsuki Arisawa glared up at him, tears brimming in her wide eyes.

"Point!" The instructor declared, albeit with a touch of surprise. Stunned, Ichigo nervously raised a hand, grinning as the spectators, parents and children alike, around him erupted into a shower of applause.

His opponent did not take kindly to this.

"Ichigo! That's cheating! I wasn't looking that time!"

"I-I didn't mean to Tatsuki-chan. S-Sorry...

"MEANIE!"

Ichigo yelped just as loudly when his feet were abruptly swept out from beneath him, then he too, fell back against the matt. Ah, yes, this was usually how their sparring sessions ended, with him on the ground, and Tatsuki Arisawa standing over him, triumphant. This time however, Tatsuki took three steps backward, and raised her hands, something she always did before they were told to begin. She wasn't crying, not anymore.

"Again."

_"Eh?"_ Ichigo sat up and rubbed at his forehead protector.

"Again." His friend repeated firmly, refusing to take no for an answer. "I wanna see if you can do that again _without _cheating."

**You'd best let her have her way this time, little one. We females are often used to receiving what we want. Let her step in as you did before, then, when she swings with her left hand, jab with all your might!**

Ichigo raised his arms and braced himself. When Tatsuki did exactly as the voice had predicted, he jabbed. Lightly, of course, he didn't want to hurt Tatsuki-chan, after all. He felt a touch of disapproval at this, and then everything became a red blur as his arm shot out rapidly.

Again, Tatsuki fell back on her behind.

"Wow." More stunned than upset, Tatsuki blinked up at Ichigo, now nursing another welt, this one square on her chin. "When did you learn to punch like that, crybaby?"

"I-I'm not a crybaby!" Ichigo protested sullenly. "I-I got you that time, didn't I?"

Tatsuki giggled as the other children peeled off to go find their parents.

"There you go again, crybaby! Hehe, I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow now!"

Ichigo could only stare as Tatsuki walked away.

"T-Tomorrow?"

**Seems you've made yourself a friend, little one. Don't go getting too attached to her now...**

With a soft click, the door to his room opened, and the dream, what had happened that afternoon, ended. Ichigo groggily sat up in bed, pulling the sheets tighter about his body in an attempt to warm himself. What he saw in the doorway made him wish he was still asleep.

"Tou-san?" Ichigo blearily blinked up at his father, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The patriarch of the Kurosaki household stood there in the doorway, his face hidden in shadow, one hand clenched into a fist at his side. The look he wore, as he gazed upon his son, was indescribable.

Anger.

Ichigo couldn't recall actually being _afraid _of his father until now. As his hand fisted around the sword's sheathe, the sword which he always kept with, slept with, but never dared to draw, Ichigo felt the faintest of pulsations from its crooked hilt. A vague flicker of reassurance surged through it, arcing up the handle and into his arm, giving birth to a tiny burst of warmth inside Ichigo's chest.

Isshin's expression darkened at that.

"Follow me, my son. Leave the sword in your room."

Ichigo fidgeted in place, fear warring with familial loyalty in the five year old's mind. The latter eventually won out and Ichigo soon ran down the stairs after his father. Isshin paused at the foot of the stairs, deliberately keeping his back to his only son. Ichigo nearly ran into him because of it.

A thick _something_, briefly covered his face. Crying out in panic, Ichigo smacked at it with both hands, heaving the heavy cloth away from his body and back from whenc it had come. Isshin _gaped _at his son as though he'd grown a third arm and an extra pair of legs. Only then did Ichigo see it.

"Put on your coat, Ichigo. It is _not _going to eat you."

"O-Okay."

Fumbling with the still too large garment, tripping over the too small buttons, Ichigo hastily did as he was told. It was only as he drew up the hood of his jacket, that he realized his father was wearing his _leather jacket._ To any other individual, this wasn't particularly significant. But Ichigo, even at five years old, was not naieve. He knew that whenever his father went out, wearing his leather jacket, he would always come home very late.

He would always come home smelling like-

Ichigo shuddered, as a frigid blast of cold air assaulted him, tearing through his thick jacket as though it were paper. He didn't want to think about that day ever again, it brought back the bad dreams, and the fevers. It made his head itch, like he was forgetting something terribly important-

"Where are we-

Without another word, Isshin Kurosaki eased open the door. Ichigo thought he saw the air shimmer there for a moment, as though something were standing there, something that he couldn't quite see. Isshin tensed noticeably, his eyes becoming like flint, his shoulders taught as steel.

Ichigo squinted his eyes, but saw nothing. No, not quite nothing. Just a shimmer, and behind it, a mass of smaller, less distinct shimmers, bunching together, as though they were in a large group. Nausea threatened to choke him when he tried to ask his father what they were.

"We're just going for a walk." Isshin called, though to whom, Ichigo had no idea. "There was no need to show up in person."

Another, faint rustle of wind.

"Stay away from him."

Abruptly, the shimmer on the porch dissapeared.

**_Be wary, little one. Not all is as it appears..._**

The woman's voice whispered in his ear so suddenly that Ichigo actually _jumped_. This in turn startled Isshin, who glared at Ichigo with such force, such venom, that Ichigo felt as though he would actually _cry _for the first time in a month. He hadn't cried since Mommy was released from the hospital, and he really didn't want to do that again. Nay, Little Ichigo resisted the urge to whip around and search for her, he already knew she wouldn't be there. He bit his lip, trying to look anywhere but at his father. The last time he'd told daddy about the voice, daddy had gotten upset.

He didn't want daddy to be upset.

_'Don't.'_

Tears brimmed at his eyes, and he squeezed them shut.

_'Don't cry.'_

His hands balled into fists at his side.

_'I'm...not gonna..._

"Oh, my, Ichigo. What are you doing down here at this hour?"

Ichigo couldn't help it. With a tearful gasp, he bolted toward the voice, knowing as a pair of strong arms swept him up, as the sweet smell of perfume and golden orange hair tickled his nose and cheeks, that his mother was here. He sniffled, the sound breaking into quiet sobs as she planted a soft kiss on his head, hot tears staining his face and the soft green blouse she wore. She whispered words of comfort to him, and then:

"Where my two men going on an early morning jog together?" Ichigo knew without question that his mother was speaking to his father, as Masaki pulled herself into an upright position, still cradling him in her arms. "I appreciate the sentiment darling, but Ichigo needs his rest."

"Masaki, I-

"You should go to bed, _darling."_ Masaki's tone was warm and motherly, but something about the way she spoke caused Isshin to pale. "You know how I get at this hour." Ichigo didn't see the look on her face, but it must have been a truly terrifying one, for Isshin muttered something incomprehensible and with the sound of slow footsteps ascending the stairs, he was gone. Ichigo, at a loss for words, still didn't budge.

"M-Mommy...

"Daddy didn't mean to scare you." Masaki's word's were like honey in Ichigo's ears as she carried her son toward the couch. "He just forgot to have his coffee this morning, that's all."

Ichigo sniffled, nuzzling his head deeper into his mother's chest.

"Then daddy should buy more."

"He should." Masaki agreed, patting Ichigo's back softly as she sat down. "Mommy will be sure to punish him for that." This of course, caused Ichigo to smile, and rub at the tear marks that streaked his face. Masaki's 'punishments' were often anything but, and their humiliating artillerry was almost always directed at Isshin. Her next words however, had exactly the opposite effect.

"So Ichigo, has your new friend been talking to you, lately?"

**!**

Ichigo stiffened, all three feet of him completely and entirely on edge. With every fiber of his being, he recognized this topic as taboo amongst children _and _adults. When he'd told Tatsuki, she'd just looked at him funny. Karin and Yuzu didn't even understand words yet. And daddy...

"Sh, Shhhh" Masaki crooned softly, her gentle smile instantly assauging the boy's fears as she pressed a finger to Ichigo's lips. "There's no need to cry, Ichigo. Everything...is alright. This will be our little secret. Daddy doesn't have to know, neh?"

Ichigo warily extended his little finger.

"Pinky swear?"

Masaki did the same.

"Pinky swear."

**Your mother is an intelligent woman, little one.**

Ichigo winced at the slight pressure _her _voice created on his skull. He felt this sensation only when the lady in red strongly wanted her opinion to be known, and as such, he often times felt inclined to voice it for her. He chose to do so know, regardless of the reprecussions it would provoke.

"She says...you're smart."

"Oh?" Masaki's smile became slightly more humorous. "And what else does she say about me?"

"Eh..."Ichigo fidgeted in place. "Don't I have to go to bed, though?"

"And why is that?"

"Um...I have to go to school tomorrow?"

"Not anymore, you don't. Now, tell me more about this friend of yours."

Elated, Ichigo instantly launched into a full blown dialogue of everything the red princess had ever told him. Her apperance, the world in which she lived and he had seen once before, her opinon on his spars with Tatsuki, the time of day in which she drank sake, even miniscule facts such as her favorite color being, unsurprisingly, red. That, and the fact the she would always, _always_, address him as 'little one' or 'my prince', when she spoke

Masaki, for the most part, simply listened, smiling all the while, nodding when neccessary, speaking only to voice the occassional question, or to further encourage her son to voice his ardent desire to learn the name of the intangible woman who was swiftly becoming his closest companion.

Atop the stairs, Isshin folded his hands against his head, as though in doing so he would be able to muffle the sounds of Ichigo's laughter. Upon closer inspection, his hands were slightly singed, and his eyes, they bore deep, dark circles under his eyes, a clear sign of sleep deprivation.

"My cherished wife, what are you thinking? You're only making it worse...

The pain in Isshin's eyes was so thick it was actually tangible. For good reason. He hadn't been expecting the Soul Society to make their move so soon, and he only had himself to blame for that month of inaction after Masaki's recovery. Now, they were _already _under surveillance, a chilling fact that he'd only discovered just now, opening the door to find half of the Onmitskido at his doorstep. If they were to discover that sword, here...

Son of an exile or not, they would gladly drag Ichigo into this for the sake of their law. Couldn't Masaki see that? Surely, she knew that by encouraging Ichigo's growth, by nurturing, _fostering _his interest in that zanpakutou, that she was already hastening the end of everything?

There was no possible way for Ichigo to survive a duel for ownership of _that _sword. Even with a century of training, even though Kisuke would absolutely refuse to fight a child, there was simply no chance for Ichigo's survival, should he be discovered. Soul Society would not hear of it.

They _would _do battle.

And Ichigo, would die.

In the end, it came down to Ichigo's happiness and growth, or his well being and his life. If Isshin were to deny Ichigo that, this other realm that was as much Ichigo's birthright as it was his own, then he would doom his only son to a life of mediocrity and self loathing. If he did not, then Ichigo would experience, at best, a few years of happiness, which in turn, would be cut brutally short once he was inevitably discovered.

It was a choice that no father should ever have to make.

That had been the purpose of tonight's little excursion.

Isshin had been about to reveal everything to Ichigo. His lineage, his power, his very destiny, all of it would be laid bare, and then, he would have let his son choose between the lackluster life of a human, or the short life of a warrior. But of course, all of _that _had been swifty cut short when Shihoin Yoruichi greeted him only five minutes ago, prompting his inexcusable reaction toward his eldest child. But that was not the worst of it.

She'd seen his son.

Isshin fought the urge to scream and only paritally succeeded as he bit down against his lip, tasting the acidic metallic tang of his own blood. The thought consumed him, blotting out all else in that terrible instant of realization that all of his carefully laid plans had been stripped away and that he was utterly helpless in the wake of the knowledge that he had failed to protect his son from one of Soul Society's most viable elements.

Damnit, Yoruichi Shihoin had _seen _Ichigo!

**_A/N: Ah, a mother's intuition...What on earth could Masaki be up to? BTW The Poem is not mine. I give credit where credit is due. You know who you are and THANK YOU! Alright, and a few notes. This takes place JUST before Urahara leaves, so on and so forth, so his impending exile, as well as that of the vizard's and Yoruichi is going to be a factor in this story...eventually. What can I say, I'm aiming for originality here, and I promise, none of you will be dissapointed by the final product XD_**

**_Next Time: A Mother's Love...and a boy's crush? Enter Shihoin Yoruichi!_**


	3. Concussive

**A/N: Wow. I had no idea this story would be so well...accepted. I'm glad that all of you are enjoying my work, and believe me, I aim to take each chapter to a new level and then some! Benihime's abilities are relatively unexplored, so that leaves me plenty of plot/wiggle room...**

**Read, Review and enjoy the chappy!**

**Watching fearfully as you grow**  
**Two hopes clashing, a conflict close by**  
**One, a father's concern, knowing he's failed**  
**Another, a mother's love, wanting the best**

**And to add another**  
**A pair of golden glowing eyes**  
**Waiting in the darkness**  
**Waiting for her prize**

**Concussive**

As the first bolt of lightning tore through the clouds, the rain began to fall. It hammered against the roof, it tore through the streets, it engulfed everyone and everything in its path, drenching them to the core. All of Karakura suffered its wrath, save one. Walking amidst the rain soaked streets, a woman, garbed entirely in black, remained unscathed. The rain did not touch her, nay, it turned to steam and blew away with the wind before it could draw close.

Her visage could not be seen in the darkened cowl, but for a pair of gleaming, golden eyes. She walked with her arms folded, and head down, submissive, concealing her face from the occasional passerby. None bothered to spare her so much as a passing glance, however, and she continued onward, unperturbed. She continued to drift along in such a manner, until she reached what appeared be an ordinary hotel.

Suddenly, her demeanor changed.

She straightened, abandoning the hunch that had initially led her to be mistaken for an old woman. Her hood was cast off, revealing a young face, not quite that of a girl's neither that of woman. Rich, violet locks, cut short at the neckline, framed this tan visage, the rain plastering a few strands of hair to her forehead. She cast the black cloak aside, revealing a slim black kosode and slacks. No sooner had she done so, then she simply dissapeared. Present one moment, and gone the next, she appeared to have vanished altogether. It was not until she reappeared on a rooftop several blocks away, that her prescence was confirmed once more. She paused, slowly glancing to the left, right, and back again.

The window was unlocked.

_'Perfect.'_

She smiled, exposing pearly white teeth.

Then, gripping the drainpipe tightly, she swung herself into the room, feet first. Instead of smashing through the glass, however, the woman phased right through it, as though it simply did not exist. She tucked her body into a roll, and came up standing, in the middle of the room.

Her target lay in bed, snoring softly, dead to the world. A mass of wild spiritual pressure emanated from him, creating a small breeze in the sealed room that tickled at her senses. She crinkled her nose as the scent of dried blood assaulted her nostrils. Why would a _boy _have such a scent?

Frowning, she placed one hand beneath the pillow, carefully, so as not to disturb the child whose head lay atop it. Briefly, she allowed herself a small smile. So this was Isshin's son. The boy didn't look a _thing _like his father, even at the age of five. Orange hair? _The kid probably got it from his mother_, she mused to herself, shaking her head once more, before returning to the task at hand. The scent was overpowering now, at this range. As the reports had confirmed, the foul spiritual odor emanated from this point, and, seeking to see it for herself, the woman's hand closed around the first solid object she came into contact withand slowly, removed it. She had not been prepared for the sight that greeted her, however.

_'This is..._

_**GO AWAY!**_

A massive _something _loomed up at her, screaming countless obscenities as the sword in her hand came alive with power. The light wrapped itself tightly around the katana, and suddenly, exposing a vicious looking woman, her hair streaked with black and red. Startled, the intruder dropped the sword, and the spectre faded away, her blood red eyes narrowing to furious slits as the unwilling well of power maintaining her, dried up.

**_Mine. _**

This horrifying vision lasted for only an instant longer, and then she was gone.

Shaken, the woman stared at the sword, where it had fallen into bed beside the boy. He clutched at it, sheathe and all, in both hands, clinging to it as though it were his only lifeline in the throes of his dreams. All of that, and he hadn't even twitched? Drawing the half mask away from her lips, the intruder planted one hand on her hip and shook her head in sheer disbelief. _That _zanpakutou belonged to one man, and one man only.

_And this boy had it._

"Kurosaki Ichigo...huh?" She murmured softly."What on earth am I going to do with you?" She felt the brief surge of killer intent from the blade, but, without a host, there was little else it could do but glow brightly. She leaned forward, ignoring the heat that emanated from the hilt.

With a small smile, she planted a soft kiss on the boy's forehead. Ichigo twitched, muttered something and rolled over. His spiritual aura seemed to shift for a moment, before it resumed its customary shape. Now, however, his azure blue aura possesed just a _tinge _of red. A touch of stability.

With this, the boy's power would awaken when it was truly needed. _Whenever that may be_, she told herself. Regardless, something this minute would be completely untraceable, and when the time did come, they would be none the wiser. If that day ever did arise...

_'No.' _She shook herself, willing those thoughts away as she sat down beside him.

Any other attempts at interference were strictly forbidden. If she were to, kami forbid, actually give the boy a chunk of her spiritual power, then who knew what the repercussions would be? He could become immensely powerful in a very short time, or he could explode from receiving what his body would reject as foreign matter. No, she couldn't take that chance. The Thirteen Court Guard would know at once that it was her doing.

Feign ignorance, claim that the only source of spiritual pressure in Karakura had been that of Isshin Kurosaki, and he certainly wasn't a threat to anyone anymore, not with the loss of his powers twenty years ago. Play to their vanity, and hope that the Central Forty Six would swallow her lie.

This was all she could do.

With a lone tear in her eye, she stroked his tiny face.

"Become strong, Ichigo-boy. Live long, find yourself a nice girl, settle down, and start a big family. And no matter what, never, _ever_, use that sword. Hide it, bury it, break it, if you can, but don't let anyone see it. Don't talk to it. Ignore it, forget about it. _Pretend it never even existed."_

The zanpakutou burned bright at that remark.

**_You underestimate my power, Shihoin Yoruichi. Did you truly think that I would choose this boy as my companion if I did not believe that he had the potential to surpass even you? He will become more than any shinigami ever was, and ever will be. He...is my prince._**

"Urusai." Suddenly, her eyes with chips of stern amber, as she glared down into the blade that Ichigo held fast."Don't speak as if you know me, _zanpakutou_. I won't even bother with your name. You're just a faux. A mistake. Because of you, a little boy, and his entire family, are going to _die."_

_**A faux? Me? I dare you to pick me up and say those words to my face! **_

"I don't have to." Yoruichi retorted calmly. "You're nothing compared to the original. Just a speck of dust in the wind. So make no mistake. I'm doing this for the boy, not for you, crimson princess." Ignoring the zanpakuto's ferverent objection, she deliberately kissed Ichigo on the cheek.

**_WHY YOU-_**

"It's a shame, really. For you, that is." She batted an eyelash at the drooling boy who continued to mumble in his sleep. "If Ichigo somehow survives all of this, he'll be a fine man in a few years. Who knows? I might even be inclined to pay him a little...visit."

**_SAY THAT AGAIN, YOU WHORE!_**

Alas, her words fell upon empty air.

Yourichi Shihoin was gone.

_(The next day)_

Ichigo Kurosaki awoke the next morning to the smell of pancakes. He bolted upright, searching at once for the katana, relaxing only when his hand curled around its onyx sheathe. He'd talked late into the night, pausing only when his voice deserted him and exhaustion threatened to smother his thoughts further. At some point, he remembered being brought upstairs, though that felt like it was only five minutes ago.

"Ichigo, breakfast is ready."

The thought of food wiped all other concerns from his mind. Glancing at the clock, and realizing it was still Six A.M. a sudden realization reached the mind of young Kurosaki Ichigo. If his mother was up at this hour, and breakfast was already prepared, then that could only mean _one _thing.

Tucking the sword under his pillow for safe keeping, Ichigo hurriedly dressed himself and thundered down the stairs. The pleasant aroma of bacon and eggs soon joined that of the pancake, and Ichigo couldn't help but grin as he scurried into the kitchen, knowing all too well what he'd find.

Sure enough, there she was.

Her golden orange hair tied back into a loose topknot, an apron draped about her waist, Masaki Kurosaki hummed tunelessly to herself as she glided about the kitcehn floor, a dish of delicious homemade pancakes in one hand, and a tray of bacon and eggs in the other. Setting them aside upon the table, she smoothly swept a chair out with her heel for Ichigo, who was already halfway into the seat before it had finished moving.

"Ah, there you are."

"Arigatou!" Ichigo grinned up at his mother, as a cold glass of milk was sent down beside his plate. "Ka-chan!"

Occasions such as these, when his mother would rise early in the morning to prepare breakfast just for him, had become increasingly rare as of late. By the lack of commotion in the house, it was obvious that Karin and Yuzu were either still sleeping, or they had already been fed and had been taken upstairs. It was the first time his mother had made breakfast since her return from the hospital, and Ichigo was elated to discover...

His breakfast was acutally _edible _today. With a small cry, Ichigo gave his thanks once more, and immediately dug into his morning meal. The bacon was crisp and full of flavor, the eggs practically melting into his mouth. And the pancakes, oh the pancakes with extra syrup, were pure _heaven_.

Masaki's tender smile as she sat down beside him, made it all the more enjoyable. Ichigo couldn't remember the last time he'd had breakfast with his mother, let alone one that tasted _this good. _In fact, it wasn't long at all until Ichigo had devoured his first and _second _helping of Masaki's wonderful cooking. With a small, bashful burp, the boy pushed his now empty plate away from the table, and sank down into his chair.

"So good!"

"Good." Masaki playfully dapped at Ichigo's sticky, syurpy face with a wet cloth, eliciting a small blush from her son. "I'm glad you enjoyed your special breakfast. You're going to need three full meals for what I have planned for us today, Ichigo." Now, I want you to go back upstairs, and bring your sword with you when you come back down. Oh, and you should bring a change of clothes, too. We wouldn't want you to get dirty."

"Neh?" Ichigo blinked once, twice, and then once again. He vaguely recalled that his mother had told him he didn't have to go to school today. His little eyes grew wide as he glanced at the clock. She was actually serious about that! If he wasn't going to school today, then what on earth-

"Mom?"

"Ichigo, have you ever heard of kendo?"

**Oh, dear. I don't like where this is going.**

_"Neh?" _Ichigo blinked, the word foreign to his ears.

"Just go upstairs and get yourself dressed, dear. I'll explain everything when you come downstairs." Ichigo did as he was told, silently slinking upstairs to retrieve the sword, and sneaking back down just as quietly. When he'd returned to the kitchen, he was surprised to find that Masaki had abandoned the apron and miracously cleared the kitchen table of all its dirty dishes. He had no idea his mommy could move that fast.

She sat on a nearby chair, smiling serenly as he approached, extending one hand.

"May I see your sword, Ichigo?"

"Um...

**No.**

Ichigo felt it, a surge of dread so sharp, so abrupt, that he momentarily lost his grip on the blade. **Do not give me to her little one! She is not my wielder, YOU are my wielder, and I will not- YOU DROPPED ME! **The disbelief in her voice would have been humorous in any other situation.

"No!" Instead, young Ichigo cried out as his mother calmly caught the sword in hand, just before it could hit the floor. When he reached for it, his mother calmly pulled the weapon out of his reach. "Ka-chan, what are you doing! Give that back! It's mine! GIVE ME THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!"

**_BTICH!_**

"Don't worry," If Masaki had been startled by Ichigo's sudden outburst, she did very little to show it. "I'll give it back to you in a moment." This did little to assauge his fears however, and it certainly didn't calm his sword down, as her protests grew louder and far more ferverent.

**_LET ME GO! LET ME GO THIS FUCKING INSTANT!_**

"She says let go!"

"I will." Masaki assured her distraught son, running one eye over the blade. "Just a moment."

Ichigo remained torn somewhere between sorrow and anger when his mother drew his sword from it sheathe. The pain he felt was not quite his own, it felt numbed, chilled, and cold. But Ichigo was fairly certain that he didn't like it, and that it was coming from the sword. His SWORD!

"Don't you want to know her name, Ichigo?"

"Her name?"

"Hai. You already know it, don't you?"

_Ba-dump._

A fuzzy pressure clawed at his skull, demanding release. Ichigo gasped, falling to his hands and knees as his heart inexplicably slammed against his chest, threatening to shatter his ribcage. The very sight of his sword, not in his hand, but in that of _another's _caused him pain. No, not just pain. This wasn't any other owie that his mother could kiss away, this pain came from the _inside_. Scorching, searing, burning, it took all of his willpower and cast it aside as if he were nothing. He felt the words forcing their way up his throat, scalding and cutting and hacking at him.

_'Her name..._

"B-B-Beni...

**_YES! My name! Speak it, little one!_**

Masaki's eyes shot wide open.

The blade in her hand, the weapon of her one and only son, was becoming _warm to the touch_. As Ichigo fumbled with the unspoken name, as he gripped tightly at his head, the blade began to change. Its slim, tapered tip grew flat, becoming wider as it burned. Soon it was too hot to hold altogether. Carefully placing it upon the table, Masaki looked on in awe as the blade began to transform. It raged hotter still, emitting a crackling, popping sound, red light wrapping loosely around its length, a tassle now dangling from its hilt. Its edge was black, its tip silver...

And suddenly, it was a normal katana again. The crimson energies departed from the blade, returning to its sheathe in a rush of wind so sudden, that the kitchen windows shattered from the force of it. And somehow, little Ichigo had managed to stand up during the blast.

"Beni...hi-

Ichigo swayed on his feet for a moment longer, and toppled forward, the whites of his eyes showing as they rolled back in his head. The forces exerted upon him had simply been too much for the boy to bear, and though he had come within an inch of naming his sword, it would have to wait for another day. Masaki pulled him into her arms, and the sleeping Ichigo did not resist, sagging against his mother as she praised him.

"Oh, my darling Ichigo. Mommy is so proud of you!"

"Masaki! What was that explosion!"

The heavy pounding indicated that Isshin was already on his way downstairs. Vaulting over the railing feet first, the patriarch of the Kurosaki household, cradling Karin in one arm, and Yuzu in the other, took one look at the burnt tabletop, then another at Masaki, and yet another...

Slowly, he turned to regard his wife with a look of absolute horror. No, it was more than that. Disbelief, sorrow, confusion, and even a dab of anger and regret, mingled with terror, all of these emotions and more were mixed together in the pained expression of Kurosaki Isshin.

"Masaki...don't tell me you taught him it."

"Isshin, why can't you be proud of your son?" Masaki shook her head sadly and held their child tighter. "I understand your feelings. Truly, I do. But sheltering Ichigo from his heritage, from his _life_, you're only going to alienate him. I won't stand for that. I want our child to live a joyful life."

"No. I don't think he succeeded. He came close, but it wasn't enough. We'll try again tomorrow, when he's rested."

Isshin looked as if he were about to shout, then remembered Karin and Yuzu and decided against it. "Masaki, do you have any idea what you're doing? He _can't _hide from them! Sooner or later, the Central Forty Six is going to notice this! What do you plan to do when they come here?"

_"I will fight."_ Masaki's stern reply left her husband speechless. "I will not let them take Ichigo away from me. So yes, my darling husband, when they come for my child, _our _child, I will fight them. If they break my arms, I'll protect him by kicking. If they take off my legs, I'll protect him by biting...if they break my neck, I will protect him by staring...if they kill me, Isshin, then I will protect my son by becoming a hollow, if I must."

"..."

"They can try whatever they wish...but they will never lay a finger on my son." Isshin could not find the words to speak as Masaki tearfully clutched her eldest child to her bossom. Those same eyes, those lovely orbs of green that had always been so happy during the first years of their marriage, now turned their wrath upon him."I will train him, Isshin. I will make Ichigo strong, and when the enemy comes to take him away, I will give my last breath in his defense. I ask the same of you now, darling. What will _you _do when they come? Will you stand and fight? Or flee?"

"I...

"Do you want your only son to hate you?"

Isshin surprised Masaki then, by calmly turning his back on her, and walking into the family den. After quietly placing both Karin and Yuzu in their crib, the head of the Kurosaki household calmly exited the room, and shut the door behind him. Now, arms empty and shoulders hunched in defeat, he returned to the kitchen, staring only at Ichigo for a moment, his battered, bruised son that refused to understand the situation.

"He is my son." Isshin's word's were empty, yet at the same time, they were full of so much sorrow. "I only want what's best for him. Masaki, if he, if Ichigo goes down this path, he has no chance. I've cut ties with Soul Society. He will have no one but you and I to rely on, and...we just can't."

"You would deny him his happiness then." For the first time since their arguement had begun, Masaki actually sobbed, one hand flying to her mouth. The sound of it nearly broke Isshin's heart in two. "Do not say those word's to me, Kurosaki Isshin. If you insist on doing so, then I-

"No!" Isshin shook his head fiercely, desperate to prevent that. "I won't throw him to the wolves, Masaki! That is _exactly _what you'll be doing if you raise our son to think that he's invincible! He won't stand a chance by himself, and even if I did have my powers, without allies-

"And...what would you do...if he had allies?" Masaki asked quietly.

"Nani?" Isshin blinked. "Masaki...you wouldn't."

"Iie. I am not so far removed from logic as you are." Masaki shook her head slowly, a sad smile adorning her face. "You may not see it yet, my darling husband, but Ichigo does have allies. Some of them will surprise you, but they will emerge, when the time is right."

"Better that than losing my only son to that...that _monster!"_

_"Benihime." _Ichigo rasped softly, earning a startled gasp from both his parents."She..._isn't... _Isshin choked aloud and turned to stare at his now very much awake son. For Ichigo, Ichigo, covered in sweat, was glaring up at his father with a rare emotion in his eyes, one that his father instantly recognized as outright defiance. Squirming in the arms of his mother, the exhausted child twisted around to reach for something, and Masaki delicately set her soot covered son down beside. With trembling fingers, Ichigo reached for it, the blade, for it had fallen from the table.

"She's...She's not a monster."

The instant Ichigo's hand curled around the hilt the blade complete its transformation. With a sharp crack, the katana exploded into its true form, losing its hilt in the process as the handle bent itself down at a sharp angle. He gripped its black clothen hilt until his little fingers bled into it.

"She's..._mine."_

"Impossible." Isshin thought he was looking at a young Kisuke Urahara for a moment, such was Ichigo's gaze. That refusal to flinch, the ability to walk to his own death with a smile on his face. Even now, defying the odds in the face of overwhelming danger. It was almost as if...

**At last! I am AWAKENED!**

"Her name is..._Benihime."_

**A/N: I DO NOT OWN THE POEM! Ms. Hawkins, I appreciate the help! Hope I translated everything right. I wasn't entirely sure if I translated 'mother' properly, but if I made any errors, feel free to correct me**. **Next time: Undertaking in the Making**.

_AND...hERE'S AN OMAKE TO KEEP EVERYONE HAPPY!_

_OMAKE (1)_

_"Well, this certainly is a problem. A boy with my zanpakutou..."_

_"Eh? When did you get here, Kisuke?"_

_"Ah-haha. That's a bit of a story, Isshin-san. Oh, and it looks like we're already out of time. Too bad."_

_"ALREADY!"_

_"But of course! Now, for the preview!"_

_"H-Hold on a sec! What're you-_

_"Nake! Benihime!"_

_"UWAH!"_


End file.
